


Lapse of Control

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [4]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fenhawke Week 2016, Fenris Needs a Hug, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I mean the fact that's a tag is beautiful, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For FenHawke Week.<br/><i><b>Prompt: Murphy's Law: If something can go wrong, it will.</b></i><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>Fenris was staring at him, scowling at him with murder in his eyes. He did not lower his weapon. And Hawke did not blame him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lapse of Control

Only one moment had passed since Hawke had leapt forward to meet their adversary head-on. Only one moment.

And yet...

 _And yet_.

Mana depleted, Hawke dropped his staff. It fell to the ground with a heavy thud, exacerbating the pain in his head. He tangled his fingers into his hair, staggering a step. What had happened? He felt that there were missing moments.

The demon had gone, though, so at least the danger had passed. That was the one advantageous caveat to this moment of skipped time. If only he could-

Stabbing through his head and mind, the pain made him nearly double over. Flashes of pictures in his mind. _Anders, casting spells that flashed too close to him and exploded into light that burned his eyes. Aveline, yelling to subdue._

Hawke stumbled, grabbing ahold of the stone wall for any support. His friends... where had they gone? They _had_ been here. _Hadn't_... they?

Why was everything so _muddled_?

"Ah...!" _Anders_ was _casting at him, and Aveline was yelling for them to subdue him. And Fenris... folded up against the wall, fear in his eyes. Fe-_

Fear?

What had happened? What had-

The silver haired warrior appeared out of nowhere, blade brandished at him. Hawke jumped backwards. "Fenris!" He held up his hands instead of reaching for his staff, although the magic burned at his fingertips; there was murder in Fenris's eyes, murder, beneath a pain Hawke had yet to see in the elf's eyes. "Wait!"

And somehow, for some reason, Fenris did. Hesitating was not in the warrior's repertoire, and still, at the simplest command, he did. There was something very wrong.

_And then there was hate in Fenris's eyes, cold-blooded and heartless, and Anders was tossed aside with magic that was Hawke's own. "Kneel with the rest, little wolf," in his own voice, Aveline surrounded in the near distance. Hawke attacking Fenris with the elements, sending him flying back into the wall with a blast._

Had he _attacked_ them?

"Fenris," he repeated. Speaking his name softly, but assuredly, despite the headache and his rampant confusion. He hadn't remembered doing such things, saying such things, but there were memories resurfacing of the prior moments. He must have. It was his job to remedy that. "It's me," he said slowly. "I don't remember what happened, but it's me."

Fenris was staring at him, scowling at him with murder in his eyes. He did not lower his weapon. And Hawke did not blame him.

The elf finally spoke. "Hawke," he growled in that familiar gravelly voice, and if he said it more as a question, he had the right.

Tempted as though he was to blunt the situation towards humor - _would you mind lowering your weapon now?_ \- he went the safe route. He had seen the look in Fenris's eyes in that... memory, just a moment ago.

Fenris had been fearful, and he had been fearful of _him_.

"The last thing I remember is moving to attack," Hawke explained. "There are some things, some flashes... what happened?"

"... It appeared to have cast some spell over you," Fenris said, and only slowly fell out of battle stance. "You attacked us relentlessly."

"I don't remember." Hawke rubbed his head. "Anders, Aveline?" he asked suddenly, looking around.

"The mage is unconscious. Aveline fell back to warn the reinforcements. I stayed to dispose of you."

"Dispose of me?" Hawke huffed a laugh, although it was hardly funny. "What happened to our adversary?"

"Dead. Perhaps why you came back to yourself." Fenris was looking at him critically.

"Yes, well, thank you for that." Hawke straightened himself, reaching towards a trail of blood on Fenris's cheek. "You're bleeding." And he didn't miss the way that Fenris tensed up from the touch, even if the elf did not say a word. "I am sorry. Fenris." Hawke spoke gently. "For what I did, and said. My words mean little, but I extend them to you all the same."

"It was not you," Fenris replied stiffly.

"And still, I frightened you."

"It was unintentional."

"It still happened."

Fenris breathed out, and turned away. "We should move on."

"Fenris," Hawke appealed.

Fenris glanced over his shoulders, arching an eyebrow in silent curiosity.

"I would not turn so willingly on my compatriots so easily," Hawke continued, "and should I ever be such a situation again with no safety, remove me from this earthly prison so that I may not harm you further." He again reached out his hand, the hand that had so carelessly cast pain and rage towards the ones he held most dear. Unlike the last time, however, he did not complete the circuit of touch; instead, he allowed his hand to hover a few inches from the elf's face. A silent invitation. _May I?_

He had turned upon him like his old master. He would not lay hand on him - for pleasure rather than pain notwithstanding - unless given Fenris's express permission.

Fenris was still. Unmoving. The stale winds blew bloodied silver hair across darkened skin. Then, the elf sighed, and turned his face into Hawke's embrace.

_Praise the Maker._

"Forgive me, Fenris." Hawke stroked his fingers through Fenris's hair and cradled the elf's face between his hands. "I pray I have not harmed you too deeply."

"I told you once before. I am not made of glass," Fenris replied.

"You are more fragile than you admit," Hawke said. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against the elf's. "And I love you for it all the same."

"You are straying dangerously close into sentimentalism," Fenris grumbled.

"You drive me dangerously close to sentimentalism."

Fenris hummed a little, and Hawke didn't miss the closed eyes and the twist of the elf's lips, the closest thing Fenris got to a smile, before pulling away. "Let us reconvene."

"Are you certain?"

"I'm certain," Fenris replied.

Hawke nodded and pulled his hands away. "Let us reconvene," he agreed, and sighed in relief as Fenris waited for Hawke to fall in step next to him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Now I will add the caveat that I've only been playing Dragon Age II for four days, and I've only known Fenris for two of those. I literally just cracked the game open this week. But then I saw on Tumblr it was FenHawke Week, and angst is _my_ thing, so I wanted to try writing for it. Hopefully I'm not too OOC with them; like I said on Tumblr, Fenris is a broody little tortured soul and he's hard to write. T_T
> 
>  
> 
> ~~also like I said on Tumblr, Anders is probably already awake and laying 10 feet away like "um. guys?"~~


End file.
